The Peredhil and the Harper
by Little she-bear
Summary: Elrond and Elros' not inconsiderably unstable childhood. UPDATED; sorry for the wait and please note the rating change. Elrond makes a bad move.
1. Default Chapter

**A/N:  _This is my take on what is, in my opinion, one of the most interesting relationships in Tolkien; the one between the Peredhil brothers and Maglor.  It's pretty light-hearted to begin with but seeing as this is 'Oath of Fëanor' stuff, things will get darker.  There will be bits of humour later on (I just can't help myself) but there will be nastiness. In fact, the rating will probably go up. _**

_I'm warning you now, there will be canon deviations in this fic, so if you're a rabid canon junkie, please, be advised, I'm giving you fair warning.  I have my justifications for doing so, if anyone really wants to read them, let me know and I'll post them at the end of the fic; they're quite spoiler-ridden and far too lengthy to post within the story itself.  _

_Huge thanks to the Deir-ty girls for all the encouragement and to Nemis and Arabella Thorne for looking over this before I unleashed it on the public. Nemis; I'm especially grateful to you for pointing out that no, Elrond is not Armenian. That could have been embarrassing. __J__  Arabella; thank you for the doggy-biscuit and for reminding me that I do have homework to do. It's coming along I swear. :p  _

_This is my first attempt at a serious fic, so constructive criticism is welcome. Enjoy._

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**Chapter 1:  His brother's keeper.**

 "Ammë?"1

The enquiry was met with only dark, empty rooms.  He peered into the gloom to look for any signs of life.  He found none; the house was completely still and had been for some time.   

_Off looking for Ada2 again are you Ammë?  _To answer his own question, the little half-elf padded across to the morning- room window with silent** bare feet and pulled back the heavy tapestry that kept out the night's chill.  With eyes as grey as the morning that greeted him, he discerned a figure on the beach that confirmed his suspicions as to the whereabouts of his mother.**

"He's not coming back," he intoned ruefully, as much to himself as to the lonely form of his mother, Elwing, gazing out to sea.  He turned from the dreary scene before him and drew back the coverings from the other windows to let the burgeoning morning into the house. 

Elrond son of Eärendil had been through this routine countless times before; He'd open the windows, then wake his brother Elros, heat the water for washing, wake Elros again, prepare breakfast, forcibly drag Elros from his bed, eat breakfast, wash and make Elros wash despite his protests. After that, Elwing would usually break off her shoreline vigil and they would adjourn to the study where their mother would teach the boys languages, history and math. 

Twenty minutes later, there was still no sign of Elwing. Elrond sat in the study, fidgeting with his quill, half-reading a book on Quenya, trying to shut out his brother's noisy attempts to slay the Balrog in the corner with his trusty wooden sword.  Every five minutes or so, he would look up to the door, hoping for his mother to walk in at that instant.  Eventually, he sighed and hopped down from his stool.  Before he got to the door Elros forgot his imaginary fell-foe and clumped over to his brother.

"Where're you going?"

"I'm going to get Ammë," Elrond replied.

"She'll be here in a minute." With that, Elros took enthusiastic swipes at an advancing horde of orcs.

Elrond rolled his eyes; Elros would try anything to delay his lessons.  "I'm going to get Ammë," he re-asserted.  He paused by the door as he watched Elros take on a particularly nasty orc.  "Elros, perhaps you shouldn't play with that in here."

The battle paused again.  "What?"

Elrond took the sword off him before his brother could go on the defensive.  "You'll break something."

Immediately the warrior gave way to the petulant child.  "I will not! Give that back!"  His protests fell on deaf ears.  

"You'll get it back after the lesson.  Why don't you start on your calligraphy?"  Elrond sent silent thanks to Eru3 that he had managed to get the sword off his brother.  He was a handful at the best of times but armed he was positively lethal.  

"Elros stamped his foot. "No!"

 "I'll tell Ammë."

"And I'll tell Ammë you were being mean!"

"Fine." Once again Elrond cast his eyes skyward.  "I'll be back soon.  Go on, you can start without us." Elros stared back from beneath a furrowed brow, his bottom lip contorted into an expression of misery.  Elrond said nothing to this display; he merely raised his eyebrows in expectancy.  Elros knew then that there was no point in arguing- his brother had given him 'the look'.  Elros spun theatrically on the ball of his foot, arms swinging and sighing with the injustice of it all.  He made a show of opening his book and unrolling a piece of parchment while Elrond watched him.  Elrond, satisfied that Elros was being obedient, at least for now, left to find Elwing.  As soon as the door had snapped shut, Elros slapped his quill down on the desk and scowled.  His brother had no sense of fun.  He thought he was so big but why should he always be telling him what to do?  He wasn't that much older. 

It was so unfair.

~*~

The house had been their home in Arvenien4 for as long as Elrond could remember.  

He had always been told stories of his noble ancestors, though to look at their home you would not think that the family had such illustrious forbears.  The house was,

comfortable but relatively plain and simple.  His parents had chosen that humble 

abode on Elwing's insistence; it afforded a good view of the harbour and was only a short walk from the beach.  In short, it was as close to the sea as possible, so Elwing would always be as close to her husband as possible when his mariner's wanderlust took hold.  

Elrond made his way along the path that curved round from their house and down to the beach.  He half skipped, half walked the path, swinging Elros' toy sword beside him in a rare concession to childishness.  

"Elrond!" Elrond stopped in his tracks and spun around to face whoever had called him.  He saw his mother's serving girl hurrying down the path towards him.  She looked angry.  Elrond closed the distance between them and bowed stiffly. 

"Mae govannen Nárwen."5

"I'll mae govannen you, young Peredhil!" she snapped.  _Damn, _thought Elrond, _it didn't work_.  He had observed that for his brother, politeness usually did the trick with his mother but it was clear to him now that when Nárwen was annoyed about something there was no escape. 

"What in the name of Manwë6 do you think you're doing out here on your own? And why aren't you at your lessons?"  She felt strange saying this to Elrond.  This rant was usually Elros' dubious privilege.  

"Ammë isn't home; she's down by the shore.  She's late for our lessons so I came to find her."

  The light of comprehension dawned on Nárwen's face.  Now it all made sense.  

"You shouldn't go wandering though, it's not safe.  Anything could happen."  

Elrond looked nonplussed, "nothing ever happens here."

Her expression hardened a little.  "Elrond, your parents are very important people, which makes you important too. And little important people shouldn't go charging around on their own.  Understand?"

He nodded solemnly, "All right, I'll be more careful."

"I just want you to be safe; I'm not saying this to scare you-"

"-I'm not scared.  I understand, I do."

 Looking into his earnest little face, her frown melted into a maternal smile.  "All right then." She motioned towards the toy sword, "Been playing soldier have you?"

"No."

"Oh." The smile faltered a little.

"Elros was playing with it in the study; I was worried he might break something.  He shuffled and smiled sheepishly, "I was trying to be safe."

Nárwen nodded to him and Elrond did not notice that her expression was now tinged with melancholy.  "Very commendable young Peredhil.7 Go on back to the house, I'll fetch your mother."  She shook her head as she watched him round the path back to the house, now clutching the sword seriously by his side.  _The boy deserves a childhood.  Am I the only one that sees it?_

~*~

Nárwen approached Elwing cautiously, not quite sure how to interrupt her.  She cleared her throat while keeping a respectful distance. "My lady?"

"What is it?" Elwing continued scanning the horizon, her shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around herself.  

"I just ran into your firstborn."

"And?"

"He's been waiting for you at the house."-

Elwing dropped her arms to her sides, "I'm late." She turned around and started immediately towards the house.  "The boy's lessons, I lost track of time…" She carried on admonishing herself and apologizing to no one in particular until Nárwen interrupted. 

"How long have you been down here my lady?"

She shrugged her shoulders and hitched her skirts to begin the climb up the path, "A few hours maybe." 

"A few hours?"  Nárwen tripped over a clump of grass that she had not noticed in her astonishment.  She jogged to catch up with her superior before composing herself and continuing, "My lady, begging your pardon but do you think it's wise to leave them alone for so long?"

Elwing hardly paid the question any mind, "I'm sure they're fine."

Nárwen wouldn't let it go, "If you need me in the mornings, or I could stay in the house"-

Elwing spun round, "We've discussed this before and I'll say it again, that won't be necessary. Elrond's a responsible boy, he watches over Elros better than anyone could."

_Better than his parents?_ Nárwen thought things she would never say.

~*~

Elwing entered the unusually quiet study to find Elrond perched on his stool, clutching his left arm, his eyes rimmed red.  Elros was standing in the corner eyeing his brother warily.  He had reclaimed his sword.  

Elwing folded her arms, "What's happened?" She asked forcefully.  Elrond leapt off his stool and ran to his mother, burying his face in the folds of her gown. 

"He hit me," said a muffled voice. 

She squatted down to his level, "Oh, let me see."  She rolled up his sleeve gently to see that the area just above the wrist was already starting to yellow.  He would have an impressive bruise by tomorrow.  She tilted his head up to look at her and wiped away his tears.  "Do you want Ammë to kiss it better, hm?"  Elrond's lips curled upwards slightly at the edges; he tried to preserve his expression of suffering but he couldn't help reacting favourably to the attention his mother was giving him.   

Suddenly, Elwing snapped her fingers at a point behind her and her voice lost all trace of tenderness.  "Where do you think you're going? Put the sword in the corner and sit at the desk. Now!"  Elros sighed in defeat.  His escape attempt foiled, he surrendered himself to his fate.  His mother would probably make him do extra calligraphy- again.  He silently cursed his noisy feet. He could never, try as he might, make his footfalls as effortlessly silent as his brother's.  

"Elrond," Elwing's voice was soft once more again, "why don't you go downstairs to the kitchen? Ask Nárwen for some salve alright?"  Elrond nodded glumly and turned away. Just before closing the door he saw Elros looking entreatingly up at his mother, guilt written all over his face.

~*~

"Little monster!"  Nárwen slapped the lid back on the tub on ointment with such force it made Elrond jump.  "No self-control that child."  She rolled his sleeve back down after giving his arm one last rub.  "How does that feel?"

Elrond poked the muscle gingerly, "Cold."

"Well that means the salve is working silly."  She put the tub in the cupboard out of the boy's reach.  "You know Elrond; you shouldn't antagonize your brother."  Elrond was not sure exactly what 'antagonize' meant but he guessed that Nárwen was implying that what happened was his fault.  He was shocked at the injustice of such an idea. 

"I was just trying to help." His bottom lip trembled.  Nárwen moved to forestall the threatened deluge by sitting and hoisting the wronged boy into her lap.

"I know, I know," She rocked him gently, "but it's not your job to try and keep your brother out of trouble."

"Who else will?"

_Good point._

They sat in silence for a while until Elrond piped up, "how does it work?"

 "How does what work?"

 "The salve."

"Well," she pondered the question for a moment, "It's a painkiller.  It cools the injury, makes it numb."

 "Yes, but how?"

"It's," pause, "got," another pause, "special herbs in it."

"Which herbs? How do they work?"

 Elros had his faults but she had to concede, in a lot of ways, he was the easier to deal with.

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1. Ammë = 'Mum/Mom'

2. Ada= 'Dad.'

3. Eru = 'The One', another name for Illuvatar, the creator.

4. Arvenien = Land West of the Mouths of Sirion

5. Mae Govannen = 'Well met.'

6. Manwë = Chief Valar, Lord of Arda.

7. Peredhil = Half-elf.

Names:

Elrond = Either 'Star Dome' or 'Elf of the Cave,' depending who you talk to.

Elros = 'Star Foam'

Elwing = 'Star Spray'

Eärendil = 'Sea lover'

Nárwen = 'Fiery maiden'


	2. The Visitor

A/N: Huggles to all who reviewed, you all get a free display by She-Bear's Bouncing-Bungee Elves of Beleriand (_with spandex this time, okay Arabella?). Thank you all. _

I'd like to apologise for how the formatting of the footnotes came out last time. I had written them in super-case and it wasn't nearly as intrusive. It seems though that ff.net can't handle super-case. Sorry 'bout that. 

Right, onward. 

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"Ammë, here comes another one!"  He bent his knees in preparation for the wave then jumped up on the spot, allowing the wave to pass under him before he landed again, with an almighty splash.  Elwing had given up trying to save herself from Elros' gleeful splashing five waves ago.  

Elrond sat back on the dry sand, content to watch his brother's antics.  A few days, one forced apology later and peace had returned to the household.  He smiled as his younger sibling tackled another foam-trimmed breaker.  Elrond looked across to the West and mused that Elros' shrieks of delight could probably be heard all the way to the Isle of Balar.  He noticed that the sun was still some way from making its final descent for the day; they still had a couple of hours of daylight left; two hours before time would be called on this little excursion and they would have to return to the house, no doubt with Elros trailing behind and kicking up clouds of white sand in protest. 

Elrond got to his feet and walked over to his mother and brother but stopped just short of the tide-line.  Elros beckoned him closer but Elrond shook his head vigorously; he recognised that mischievous glint in his brother's eye from a mile away.  "Ammë, can I go and get a book?"

Elros snorted, "You-are-so-boring!" he wailed incredulously.

 "And dry," muttered Elwing making a futile attempt to stop her sodden dress sticking to her legs.  "Fine Elrond, but straight to the house and back, no detours." 

"Yes Ammë." He cocked his head towards his brother.  "What are you looking at?"

 "Bo-ring."  Elros sang the syllables.

Elrond leaned forward and echoed, "Child-ish." Elros retaliated by kicking his foot out, sending a spray of water in Elrond's direction, who leapt backwards to safety with the kind of agility that only one of the firstborn could muster.  He then turned and jogged back home with a triumphant grin on his face.

After his prey was out of range, Elros turned his attention back to his mother.  "How long until I can sail in a ship like Ada?"

"Oh not to worry Elros, only about another thirty years or so."

"You say that every time I ask," he mumbled, taking his now less enthusiastic splashing further down the beach.

"I know," she replied wistfully when her son was out of earshot.  She strolled along the tide-line in Elros' direction.  She pulled her windswept hair out of her face and scanned the horizon.  Elros plopped down on the ground and took to delving in the wet sand.  He considered his mother in bewilderment for a moment.  For someone who said she did not like the ocean very much, she spent an inordinate amount of time looking at it.  He had to admit though, she had been spending more time with them since the incident in the study; he wondered if he should hit Elrond more often. He busied himself with the sand for a few more minutes until the thought struck him. Where _had Elrond got to?  He turned and squinted in the direction of the top of the path and frowned in puzzlement at what he saw.  He went back to his mother and tugged at her skirt to get her attention. _

"Ammë, who's Elrond talking to?"  Elwing yelled her eldest's name at the top of her lungs the second she saw what Elros was pointing at.  She took off across the beach in a heartbeat.  Elros had never seen his mother move that fast before. 

~*~

Elrond looked up at the Elven lord standing before him with awe and some trepidation.  At least, he _looked like lord.  The horse by his side was the most handsome Elrond had ever seen.  His clothes were fine, if a little travel stained and there was something about the way he carried himself; a certain pride that was more than a little intimidating.  Elrond suddenly felt very small and self-conscious.  He was horribly embarrassed at the fact he had nearly run into him when he had reached the top of the hill.  He surreptitiously began to brush at his leggings which he remembered were still covered with sand.  The stranger nodded to the boy and Elrond bowed back uncertainly._

 "Are you"- Elrond self-consciously cleared his throat, "Do you bring word from Gil-Galad?  Sir."  

"No, it is safe to say I have little to do with the High King," he answered, "Why do you ask?"

"You look like a Noldo, Sir."  Elrond hoped he had guessed right, his manner of dress and his grey eyes were certainly characteristic of the Noldor. The only thing that did not fit was his hair; Elrond did not know what to make of that; it was dark, yet with a red sheen to it, like burnished copper.* He had never seen an Elf with colouring like that. 

The stranger gave a slight, lop-sided smile and quipped in his lilting voice, "So do you.  You must feel a little out of place amongst all these Sindar."

Elrond flinched a little and could not fight a scowl creeping its way onto his face.  "My mother is Sindarin.  Well, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Her grandfather was Edain."

All trace of mirth vanished from the stranger's expression.  Where it had been soft and almost musical before, his voice now took on a harsh tone, "Is your mother home?"

"No Sir." Elrond felt distinctly uneasy now.  He stared at his feet, shrinking under his interrogator's suddenly intensified grey gaze.  He felt like he was being stared at, studied almost.  He just wanted to run home to Nárwen and forget this meeting. If this stranger had not been standing between him and the house, he would have without a second thought; Elrond had no desire to move closer to him.  He dared to glance upwards to find those steely eyes still scrutinizing him keenly.  "Sir, I have to go," he attempted to manoeuvre himself around the stranger to get back to the house, "my mother is waiting."

The adult marked the child step for step. "I thought you said she was not home."

Elrond opened his mouth to answer but no sound came out.  At that moment he heard Elwing calling to him; he could have sworn there was a hint of panic in her voice.  She appeared at the top of the hill and took Elrond by the wrist and pulled him behind her.  

The Elf looked Elwing up and down somewhat disdainfully, his eyes giving away their amusement as they lingered on her bare feet and gown, soaking wet from the knees downward. Nevertheless, he bowed courteously and said, "Lady Elwing, I presume?"

"What do you want?"

"I think you know, Lady."

"Indulge me," she spat.

He sighed sharply, "I bring a message from the Sons of Fëanor.  We grow impatient for a reply to our requests for what is rightfully ours."

Elwing drew herself up to her full height and spoke slowly and clearly, "All the remains of the Light of the Two Trees will never be yours. Any right you may have had to those holy jewels was made forfeit long ago thanks to your deeds, kinslayer.  There, you have your answer.  I suggest you take it to your brothers and never dare to approach me or my family again."

A tiny crack appeared in his composure; he looked genuinely hurt.  "I would never have harmed him.  I have no quarrel with your son, nor with you.  Yet."  He opened his arms with his palms facing outwards in a gesture of entreaty, "Please, Lady, I implore you to reconsider." His gaze flickered down to Elrond peeking out from behind his mother and back, to lock with Elwing's. "We can end this peacefully."

"Do you threaten me, Sir?" hissed Elwing.

His arms dropped to his sides and hung his head.  He turned his back on them and returned to his horse.  "Alas, my family seldom wastes time with threats," he said dejectedly over his shoulder.  He lightly mounted his steed and trotted over to them.  He motioned towards Elrond, "He is a fine boy.  It would be a shame if he were to suffer because of his mother's foolish pride."  He inclined his head to Elrond and said, "Namarië Elrond, Eärendilion."  With that, his mount sprang into a gallop and he was gone.

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A/N:

*Just a little bit of self-indulgence on my part. Amras' name comes from the elvish for "Russet top" so I don't see why the other brothers couldn't have reddish hair too. Makes a change from dark and blonde anyway.  It might be considered unlikely for one of the Sons to actually come to Elwing in person but I thought it would be cool for Elrond and '_ooh, let's see if you can guess who that was' to have a little interaction. ;) _

 _'Namarië Elrond, Eärendilion' = Farewell Elrond, son of Eärendil.    _


	3. Preparations

A/N:

  Aaaaaand we return to our normal broadcast.  It's just dawned on me that I haven't put any disclaimers up. Whoops. Well, in case anyone was under the misapprehension that I created all these characters, names and places myself, sorry folks. I didn't. Not a darn thing. It was all made up by this Tolkien fella. The only character I own is Nárwen, and if anyone wants her, they're welcome to her. What? No takers? No? Why ever not?  
  
Big thank you to everyone who reviewed. Lot's of comments to make, I do apologise…not all of them very cogent.  I'm Welsh, I can't help gabbling…  
  
Nemis:  _::passes around the chocolate elfies to the reviewers:: Did you bring enough for everyone, blessed beta? Sorry for startling you with a new chapter over breakfast. :p I'm very impressed that you can be so on the ball with the finer points of elvish that early in the morning.  
  
Arabella Thorne:  Bribes eh? We'll talk.  Thank you for putting up with my ramblings the other night (I've had sleep now) and for pointing out those pesky prepositions._

Kalurien:  This chappies longer and I'm harumphing privately on your behalf.  ;o) 

Vorondis: You know, I didn't realise that C.T. wrote Thingol's death scene. And that's one of my fave bits too. You learn something knew everyday.  Thanks for that li'l tidbit. Incidentally, I don't think of the Sil as "more" canonical than HoME, I'm just treating it _like canon for practicality's sake, it's a purely arbitrary decision.  I'm just bloody minded like that. :o)_

Earl the Pearl:  But on the other hand, they would probably have the same, heh…libido as humans. I don't know, Elwing confuses me, which brings me nicely to the reviews of…

Staggering Wood Elf, Alena Elwing is a pain in the, you know, to write! She's a strange one, I find her behaviour very odd. I hope I've got a handle on her now.  Eep. Lots of Elwing in this chapter. Hope you like her. ::crosses fingers::

Dragon, Belthronding:  Aw, you've gotta love Robert Winston! :D  Dragon, hope you're still around, but probably not because essays caused a writing hiatus. :o(   Belthronding, Maglor's mine! I'll fight you for him! ::strikes ridiculous kung fu pose, topples over backwards::

Liqua Mire: I think it was Feanor's wife that had the red hair, but, you know, I like your idea too. Bah, I like the red highlights, I'm keeping 'em! :D 

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Elrond sat on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest and staring at the opposite wall. Within the same hour of Elrond's encounter the house had become a flurry of activity; guards had arrived, messengers were coming and going and the ground floor was teeming with town officials.  For some reason, the presence of soldiers just below his window made him even more uneasy than he had been before.  He played the meeting over and over in his head; 'Light of the Trees', 'Holy Jewels' and the word that cause a knot of dread to form in the pit of Elrond's stomach; _'kinslayer'.  Elrond did not completely understand what was happening, a state of affairs he resolved to change.  
  
_

 "Elrond?"

He snapped out of his reverie to see Elros standing by the bed, brandishing two carved, wooden soldiers.

 "I do not have room for both, which should I take?  Poldon", he held out a figure wearing armour and a sword and then an archer with a red cloak, "or Roitar?"  
  

Elrond pondered for a moment, "Poldon; Roitar's bow is delicate, you would not want it to get broken on the journey." Elros had been unusually subdued this evening, Elrond had noticed.  He was glad that his younger brother had missed the incident; by the time the bewildered child had caught up with his mother the visitor had already left.  Nevertheless, despite this and his youth, he was still astute enough to know that something was very, very wrong.

Elros sat on the edge of Elrond's bed, swinging his legs.  After a few moments of silence Elros punched his brother lightly on the shoulder.  As gestures of comfort went, it was not the most intimate but it was certainly genuine. Elrond smiled for the first time that night.   
  

"What is Gil-Galad like?" Asked Elros for about the fifth time that evening.

"It was a long time ago Elros," Elrond mentally calculated the year-span, "Six years. I do not remember much at all." Elrond dug deep into his memory searching for the one and only time he had met the High King.  He had a hazy recollection of laughing grey eyes and the shy, four-year old child that he was being tempted out from hiding behind his mother's skirts with sweets.   

"What time are we leaving tomorrow?"

"First light."  Elrond could not help smiling at the gleam that his brother's eyes took on when he thought about sailing.   

"Ammë said I was too young to go in a ship like Ada earlier today but I knew I was old enough."  Elros puffed his chest out proudly.   
  
"I think she meant you were too young to go on your own.  I mean, you are only seven."

"I am not!"

Elrond looked puzzled. "Yes you are."

"I am not. I am nearly eight. You said so the other day."

"Yes but," Elrond decided it was not worth it, "oh, never mind."  
  


"So is Ammë coming then?"   
  
Elrond felt the knot tighten.  "I know not," he whispered.  "Nárwen is definitely."  Elros groaned.  Elrond hopped off the bed and ruffled his brother's hair.  "Oh it is not that bad."

Elros flinched away from Elrond and whined, "She always spoils my games."

"You mean she does not let you get away with anything."  
  


"Same thing," said Elros with a mischievous smile.  "Where are you going?"

"I am just going to the study for a while.  Put Poldon away, you do not want to forget him tomorrow."   

Elros waited until his brother had left the room and then addressed Poldon and Roitar with a grin. "Just wait, Nárwen will get him into trouble for reading by poor light, then he will see."

~*~

"They should have put guards on the house weeks ago. This should never have been permitted to happen." 

"There is little sense in dwelling on that now, Nárwen," Elwing sank into the cushions on a chaise longue and surveyed the detritus left from the innumerable meetings that had been conducted in the house that day.  

_'Should'. The word echoed derisively through Elwing's mind.__ I 'should' have my husband with me. I 'should' not have to face watching over Sirion, the jewel and two young sons alone.  People 'should' not be willing to kill for the sake of a glorified bauble. 'Should' matters naught._

Nárwen busied herself by puttering around the room, tidying the stacks of papers that were scattered about, while she continued her retrospective advice.  "But the boys"-

-"Would have been frightened by it. I did not want to upset them unless it were necessary, unless I were sure." Elwing did not speak the rest.  _And I did not want to face the truth, the truth that I knew this day would come, that the sons of Fëanor would seek to finish what they began in Doriath. I just hoped I could face it after Eärendil had returned and I could share the weight of inevitability with him._

Elwing could see that Nárwen was not satisfied with that answer; the thin line of her lips, the set of her shoulders.  The unspoken disagreement was palpable.  "You do not approve of me."  Nárwen was shocked into stillness by her mistress' calm outburst.  It was a statement, not a question that had been directed at her and for the first time in her long life, Nárwen found herself lost for words.  "You think I neglect my sons." Again, the mistress of the house spoke in the same eerily serene tone of voice. 

"I", Nárwen stammered, "I have never said anything to make my Lady think"-

"You have no need to speak, I see it in your eyes." Those eyes were now cast downwards, unwilling to meet Elwing's searching gaze.  "You can speak now if you wish."

"Lady?"

"You can tell me what you think of me. I am curious to hear how you would translate those baleful glances into words."

Nárwen shifted uneasily.  "It is not my place."

"I am making it your place. Fear not, there is nothing you could say that would incur my wrath."

"Very well," she dropped the stack of papers she was holding back on the table with a satisfying 'slap'.  She then sat on a hardback chair opposite her mistress, her hands clasped on her knees.  "What do I think?" After this initial hesitation, she dived in. Elwing had invited her honesty, why do this by halves?  "I think your husband ought to spend less time trying to find his parents and more time worrying about the family he has here. I think you carry a heavy burden, yet you refuse help.  As a result, I see Elrond taking on the responsibilities of a parent while you are," she paused to find a neutral enough word, "distracted. While he is wise beyond his years, emotionally, he is of course, still but a child."

Elwing mentally toted up all the 'shoulds' that were implicit in Nárwen's speech and it was a speech.  Elwing guessed that her maid had wanted to say it for some time. If nothing else, it was somewhat amusing to see Nárwen live up to her name.  Well, at least some of those 'shoulds' could be dealt with. She continued to lounge back on the cushions, languidly picking threads off her white gown, outwardly showing no sign of being affected by this exchange.

"I _am distracted.  I do not mean to be," Again, her speech was maddeningly calm.  She let out a sad laugh, "And yet, here I am, sending them away. No, it is best, they will be safer on Balar." _

Nárwen asked the obvious question. "Do you ever consider giving up the Silmaril?"

"Never," she answered without hesitation, "my parents died because of it, I am not about to just hand it over. Besides, the people would never allow it.  They think it brings them good fortune.  Time will tell that."

 An awkward silence descended which prompted Nárwen to go back to her chores.  The constant rustling began to rankle with Elwing; she wanted solitude.

"Nárwen, it is alright, leave them. I will look though them in the morning."

"Very well, Lady.  I shall check on the boys; make sure Elros has actually packed some clothes as well as toys."

Elwing sighed with relief when she heard the door behind her close.  She closed her eyes and ran through a list in her head of the multitude of matters that would require her attention tomorrow. She groaned softly when she heard the door click open again only a minute later.  She sat up and turned see Elrond standing in the doorway, hesitating to come in.  _Time to get started on those 'shoulds'.  She beckoned him over to the couch and patted the seat beside her.  Elrond lethargically climbed up beside her and laid his head on her shoulder. "All packed?" Elrond nodded. "And Elros?"  She felt another sign of assent press against her shoulder. She rubbed his back gently in an attempt to diffuse the tension in his muscles.  She kissed the top of his head and spoke softly, "Elrond, there is no need to be afraid. I promise."  Still he said nothing.  "Ion-nín, no harm will come to you, I will see to it."  She tried to lighten the mood a little.  "You will meet Ereinion again soon.  You would like that?"  This time he answered with a shrug.  "Do you not wish to see your cousin again?"_

"I do not know."

Elwing tucked a dark braid behind his ear and attempted to coax him into the realm of the polysyllabic.  "I know he will be glad to see the two of you again after so long; Elros was only a babe when he last saw the two you.  Do you remember much about him?"

"I can remember hiding from him."

"Well, I assure you, once you overcame your bashfulness, you two got along very well."

Elrond sat up to face her, the ghost of a smile playing at the edge of his lips. "Really?"

Elwing tidied the braid on the other side of his head and smiled, "Yes, really.  I seem to recall you very much enjoying the view from atop his shoulders."

The child began to blush.  "He carried me?  That is not very, _kingly."  Elwing tried to decide which part of the memory was more amusing; the sight of the High King of the Noldor charging around with a toddler perched on his royal shoulders or the looks on the faces of his retainers.  "Why did he do that?"_

"Because I would not allow him to sit you on his horse."  She shook her head, "Why do I get the feeling that you and your brother will return from Balar, horribly spoiled?"

Elrond abruptly sprang up to kneel on the couch, so his pleading eyes were level with his mother's.  "Come with us", he blurted.

Elwing had to swallow to keep her voice from cracking, "Elrond, I cannot. I must stay."

"Why?" The syllable came out as a piteous mewl.

"My place is here, I- I have responsibilities. While you father is away I"-

-"They will kill you if they do not get what they want. They tried before."

"How do you know about that?"

Elrond suddenly became very interested in the couch's fabric.  "I read about it," he admitted after a silence that seemed longer than it really was. 

"In one of the books I told you that were not to look at until you were older?"  Elrond nodded glumly.  "I do not suppose it matters overmuch. You had already found out a great deal thanks you our visitor earlier today." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Who was that?"

"_That, was Maglor," answered Elwing bitterly.  _

"How can you be so certain? You must have been very young when Doriath was attacked."

"I remember."  She drew the despondent child into her arms once more. "I am sorry about today.  Truly I am, I should have protected you from hearing those things."  

The boy huddled closer into her embrace.  He suddenly felt so _safe.  As he took in the slight lavender scent of her gown, his mind snapped back to his feelings earlier, when his mother had put herself between him and Maglor.  Where he had felt vulnerable only a few moments before, as soon as his mother had arrived and he cowered behind her, gripping her dress, it seemed as though nothing could touch him.  His mother was right, all would be well, they would come to no harm.  _

"Promise me something, Elrond.  Do not speak of this to Elros and do not worry for me, it is not your place.  Go to Balar, be safe, get spoiled by Gil-Galad." She released him from the hug and tipped up his chin to look at him, "Now I will make a promise. I know I have been distant but when this is over, I will be around more. Promise." Elrond smiled weakly but a hint of worry was still in his features. 

"Come," said Elwing in a brighter tone, "to bed with you. We do not want you missing the tide tomorrow. That is assuming Elros has left room for you after his little soldiers are packed onto the ship."

Elrond giggled, "That is unfair Ammë.  He is being very mature about it, he showed me.  He has a shortlist."  

"Hm," laughed Elwing as she made her way to the door, her arm around Elrond's shoulder, "Such organisation.  When he grows up he will make a fine"-

She was cut off by a sound that chilled her to her core; the chiming of the town's alarm bell.  After a few agonizing seconds both mother and son could discern panicked yells mingling with the sharp, metallic clanging.  

Elrond took his mother's cold hand in his own and gave it a nervous squeeze.  "Ammë?"  He looked up to see that her face had paled to match her garb.  When she spoke it was barely more than a defeated whisper. 

"No."          

  
______________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N:

Ion-nín = My son.

The toy soldier's names: I go these from the Quenya baby book:  http://www.elvish.org/elm/names.html

Poldon is a derivation of _polda,_ meaning 'strong/burly' and is apparently the Quenya equivalent of Brian. Isn't that cute?

Roitar is a derivation of _roita, _meaning 'pursue' and is the Quenya equivalent of Hunter.


	4. The Attack

A/N  
  
Sorry for the delay with this chapter. Chalk it up to real life being a pain in the neck; essays, exams and throw in an incompetent phone company and you had a very annoyed Little she-bear.  Huggles to everyone who reviewed especially-  
  
Dragon: Welcome back. Y Ddraig Goch ddyry cychwyn! That's about as far as my knowledge of the Welsh language extends unfortunately, well, I do know some other Welsh phrases but they're not really to be used in polite company!  I should have guessed you were a member of the Taffia with a penname like that. Mwah ha ha, the Taffia shall take over ff.net…  
  
Nemis: Once again you have my gratitude for vanquishing the evil typo-demon.  
  
Arabella Thorne:  I've made something you thought should be more obvious, just a little bit more so. I only added one word but I think it did the trick. We'll see.     
______________________________________________________________________________________________  
  


"_Baw__, baw!__ Dartho!"_

Elwing did her best to block out the memory of Elrond's screams, his pleading for her not to leave the house.  She hugged herself and tried to focus on the task in hand only to be reminded of tiny fingers clawing at her dress, doing their utmost to drag her away from the door.

She scanned the town from her vantage point on the balcony of the town hall, flanked by two archers.  All the beacons were lit; while she had little doubt that the glow of the firelight would be seen in Balar, she did not hold any hope for salvation from there any time soon but she did her best not to show it.  

Elwing sent thanks to Eru that the attack had come from the East, the opposite side of town from her home.  Elrond and Elros were safe, at least for now.   She peered through the smoke towards the battle in puzzlement. 

"Their advance is slowing," she pointed towards the fray. "See! They are doubling back!"

"I would say there is rebellion in the ranks, Lady," replied the archer to her right.  

"Perhaps fortune does smile on us this night," Elwing whispered hopefully to herself. She gripped the balustrade with one hand and absentmindedly stroked her other fingers across a lacquered box sitting on a table beside her. She allowed herself an expectant smile as she watched her enemy's troops descend into confusion; facing attacks from Arvenien's troops and their own lackeys.  Perhaps all was not lost, perhaps her new-found allies would see them through.  

~*~

Elrond was perched on the edge of the chaise-longue in the audience room, his hands resting uselessly on his knees.  The blind panic that had hit him when he realised that the town was under attack had subsided to a dull ache of acceptance; the event he had been dreading since that fateful encounter was happening.  It was happening and there was nothing he could do.  Strangely enough, the thing he wanted to do the most was sleep.  The constant tension in his muscles had made him tired and the temptation to curl up and block out the tumult was almost overwhelming.  No matter how much his body wanted to submit though, his mind would not allow it.  He half-listened to the sounds coming from the town and half-listened (though not heeding) Nárwen's assurances that all would be well. 

-"And the King and Cirdan will send ships to aid us, you will see.  They will regret this attack, mark my words." She began to slide a bookcase along the wall to the window.  "Furthermore," she paused a moment to get her breath back, then continued, "They will never make it this far.  One of the guards told me that they are already being pushed back.  They obviously underestimated us."

Elrond's voice cracked out of the desert of his mouth.  "So why are you barricading the windows then?"

Nárwen exhaled sharply as she finally got the bookcase all the way across the window.  "It does not hurt to be cautious."  

"The ships will never get here in time."

"Elrond." Nárwen alternated her gaze very pointedly between Elrond and the pale form of Elros, who was sitting cross legged on the floor.  There was no anger in her voice, just a pleading tone, tinged with a little disappointment.  

When Elrond looked down at his brother he did feel ashamed.  Elros' ashen face now had fat, silent tears rolling down it, while he gripped Roitar with two hands, as though the toy were some talisman that would protect him from all harm.  Nárwen went to Elros and helped him to his feet.  He rose somewhat stiffly, still holding Roitar in one white-knuckled hand.  They joined Elrond on the seat, Elros on one side of her, hiding his face in her dress, Elrond on the other, still not moving a muscle.

"Listen to me, both of you."  Nárwen put a comforting arm around Elrond as well as Elros.  "Nothing is going to happen, do you hear me? Even if those pathetic excuses for Elves do get here, do you think I am going to just stand by and let them hurt you?"  Elrond shook his head stiffly and turned his attention to trying to work out if the sounds of the battle were getting any closer.

~*~

Elwing watched in dismay as she saw fires begin to spring up from nowhere near where she thought the battle was taking place.  She turned back towards the first conflict to see that the formerly stalled force was now sweeping through the town faster than ever. The invaders were now so close that even through the thick smoke, she could make out armour and drawn weapons reflecting firelight.  She thought she could hear someone calling to her but the only sounds that registered with her were the anguished cries of people fleeing their homes, searching for loved ones or grieving for them. 

"My Lady!"  

Elwing felt a hand on her shoulder, spinning her round.

"It is no longer safe here, we must leave."

She could hear the Captain of the Guard but his voice seemed muted to her.  "My- my boys," she intoned.  

"I have sent whomever I can spare but I do not hold much hope.  Maedhros brought relief to the first wave and Maglor is attacking from the West.  Your home is all but cut off." He shook his head in despair, "We are overwhelmed."  He beckoned forcefully, "Come, Maedhros will reach here soon." 

"Where do you suggest I go Captain? You say I am being attacked on two fronts and I have the sea to my back.  Where can I go?" In an instant the daze that Elwing had found herself in lifted. She turned to the lacquered box and opened it with a determined expression on her face to reveal the very reason her people were under attack.  The light streamed from the box and reflected off her white garb.  She grasped the Nauglamír and smiled grimly.

_Very well.__ I am leaving._

~*~

"Nárwen! What is happening?"  Elrond stood on the bottom step, calling anxiously up the stairs.  Nárwen appeared on the landing, tucked a short sword into her cloth belt, then descended the stair, moving so quickly she seemed to float down.  

"Come on, Elros, you too." She took each child by the hand and they were led through the house, half-running, half-being dragged.  Nárwen came to a stop beside a tapestry wall-hanging just outside the kitchen.  She drew it back to reveal a small door set into the wood panelling of the hallway.  She took out a key, her shaking hands taking three attempts to get it in the lock.  She unlocked the door and shooed them inside.  "In the cupboard, hide here." She squatted down to their level and hugged them both to her. "Just stay very quiet and _do not come out unless I come to get you." She sat back to look at them and asked if they understood.  Elrond nodded, while Elros did his best to swallow hiccoughs and sobs.  Nárwen gently wiped his tear-streaked face and whispered, "Everything will be all right."_

Elrond put his arm around his brother's shoulder and added, "She is just being cautious."

"Exactly."  Nárwen kissed each boy on the forehead and smiled weakly to them before putting her finger to her lips.  Then the door was closed and they were plunged into darkness. 

Elrond did not know how long they sat there, squashed into that little space.  He thought, after a while, that he could hear some raised male voices and Elros huddled closer to him.  After a few minutes of straining to hear every sound, his stomach lurched when an almighty bang came from the front door.  Elros yelped softly and began to shake. Elrond hushed him and held him more tightly; partly to comfort Elros and partly to quell his own shaking.  The terrible banging continued into a metronomic rhythm, both children jumping slightly with each beat.  This ended after a bone-shaking crash and the yelling started again, louder this time and the masculine voices now mingling with a lone feminine one.  In only a matter of seconds, the house fell quiet again.  After a brief pause, Elrond could make out someone speaking, quietly, more subdued than before. Elrond listened hard for any sign of Nárwen over the din of his own blood pulsing in his ears.  What he did hear were the sound of footsteps seemingly all around him.  He guessed that there were soldiers moving around upstairs as well as on the ground floor; the heaviness of the footfalls could only mean that these people were wearing armour. 

The boys tensed as they heard one set of footsteps grow closer and closer, only to move back into the distance again.  It was only when he let out a great sigh that Elrond realised that he had been holding his breath.  After another agonizing wait, sound once again ceased.  The brothers sat in the blackness for a while longer before Elrond dared to speak.  

"I think they have gone," he breathed into Elros' ear. 

"They could come back," whispered Elros fearfully.  

"I could go and see."

"No! Nárwen said to stay here."

"She could be hurt." Elrond disentangled himself from his brother and opened the cupboard door slightly.  "Just stay here, I will be back soon."  He prised his younger brother's fingers off his sleeve, "Elros, let go. I will come back in no time, I promise."

Elrond crawled out of the cupboard and closed the door behind him, then took care to replace the tapestry.  The light in the hallway was not much better than in the cupboard; Nárwen had evidently extinguished the lamps. That was a good thing, thought Elrond, he knew the house well and darkness made hiding easier.  

He crept along the corridor towards the centre of the house, sticking close to the wall.  The door at the end of the hallway had been left ajar so Elrond peered through the crack., his already keen eyesight adjusting to the gloom.  He could see and hear nothing so he risked opening it and ducking through it as quickly as he could.  He squatted down in the corner beside a small table and planned his next move.  The door to the dining room on his right was open and he could see no-one was inside.  To his left was the door to an antechamber. He decided against that, from what he had heard earlier he guessed the outer door had been broken down; he did not like the idea of opening the inner door in case the people that had done it were still outside.  That left the stairs above him or the audience chamber in front of him.  That was where they had been before, so he surmised that it was the best place to start in his search for Nárwen.  He rose, trying to ignore the icy coldness in his spine, that melted into his legs and made his knees fill with water.  Elrond tiptoed across the room, almost convinced that the thumping of his heart would give him away to any possible intruders.  He made it to the door and reached out to the doorknob, the darkness causing him not to notice the large, smeared bloodstain that lead from the antechamber to the room he was about to enter. 

Elrond turned the knob and froze in terror when the click seemed to echo through the whole house.  He paused, stock-still but he heard no-one approaching, so he continued. He had only opened the door a crack when he noticed his hand casting a flickering shadow on the door.  

"Do not go in there."

Elrond fought a wave of nausea and still gripping the doorknob, turned slowly, to see where the voice and the light were coming from.  He looked up to see that the light was coming from a three-pronged candelabra being held by an armour-clad Elf standing towards the bottom of the stairs.  So it seemed that Elves could move silently in armour after all.  The Elf descended the last few steps and strode swiftly over to Elrond, who flinched away from the door and pressed himself against the wall.  However, Elrond was surprised to see that the soldier was not going to him but the door.  He forcefully closed it and then paused for a moment with a faraway look in his eyes. Those eyes then flickered back to Elrond and he smiled slightly.

"Suilad, Elrond."

Elrond frowned and did a double-take.  For one wonderful instant he thought that perhaps this person was a town guard and that was why he knew his name.  That hope was quickly dashed when it dawned on Elrond that he was standing before the Elf Lord that he had met earlier that day.  He looked so different though.  The head of hair that Elrond had so admired earlier was now dull and lank, his sharp features now seemed drawn and haggard, especially with the candles lighting his face from below. 

"Maglor," breathed Elrond. 

"You know my name."

"My mother told me."

Maglor knelt in front of the cowering child and placed the candelabra on the floor beside him.  Elrond's stomach turned over at the cacophony of odours coming from Maglor; leather mixed with sweat, smoke mingled with the more unfamiliar yet unmistakable metallic tang of blood. 

"Now listen to me, young peredhel," began Maglor as conversationally as he could manage under the circumstance, "I need your help.  Is there anyone else in the house?"

Elrond hesitated for a moment then stammered, "The h-house keeper."

"Yes," Maglor gingerly adjusted a bloody rag on his left arm that served as a bandage, "I know about her."

"Where is she?" he quavered.

Now Maglor hesitated, then cocked his head towards the door he had just emphatically closed.  "In there. But you do not want to see her."  

The child sank to the floor, tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and rested his elbow on his knees.  "Nárwen," he whimpered.

"I am sorry." Elrond considered arguing with the likelihood of the truth of Maglor's statement but thought better of it.  "Anyone else?" Elrond shook his head, which was still in his hands.  "Do not lie to me child."

Elrond looked up fearfully.  "I do not," he said tremulously.  

"I take it," Maglor pointed towards the stairs, "that the room up there on the right is yours?  The one with the toys, yes?" Elrond nodded warily.  "If there is no-one else here, explain to me why there is two of everything in your room.  You have a brother do you not?

"He is not here," interjected Elrond.

"Where is he then?"

"Balar," replied Elrond without missing a beat.

"Well, sighed Maglor, "I do hope you are not lying to me, Elrond, because _my brother will be here shortly and I am quite sure he will raze this house to the ground when he is done with it." The look of terror that invaded Elrond's face was unmistakable.  "Is there something you wish to tell me, child?"_

"He is here."

"Where?"

"A cupboard, behind a wall-hanging," he pointed to his left, "down the hall."

"Good boy." Maglor rose to his feet, called to one of his troops who came in from outside and pointed at the weeping half-elf. "Watch him."  Maglor walked towards the door and paused in his tracks when he heard a cracking noise from beneath his feet.  He bent down and picked up Roitar, his wooden longbow now in two pieces.  Maglor looked at the toy wistfully for a moment, before setting it gently on the table and carrying on into the hallway.

Elrond gaped at the grisly scene before him in despair.  From where he was he could now see through the open antechamber doorway and through the entrance door which was splintered off its hinges.  The havens were ablaze, their streets deserted.  The orange light from the sacked town was cast onto the floor, illuminating the crimson trail smeared along the floor, that bore his own footprints.  Elrond's protesting stomach could take no more and he retched, turned and deposited what little he had eaten for supper in the corner.  

Just then Maglor appeared with a struggling, screaming Elros in his arms; he squirmed, he kicked, he bit, but it was to no avail.  Maglor deposited him on the ground after extricating himself from Elros' clamped jaws.

"That's enough from you, tithen-draug", he quipped.  

"Elros," groaned Elrond, the spasms in his diaphragm subsiding.  "Do not fight," he beckoned him over, "Come here."  Elrond took his little brother into his arms and turned his head towards the hollow of his shoulder. 

Maglor turned to the soldier he had called earlier and admonished him, "You could have closed the door, after you," he pointed to the trail of blood on the floor, "He should not have had to see that."

The soldier coolly replied, "Forgive me, My Lord, but surely they will see worse when they go outside?"

"True." Maglor rubbed the teeth-marks on his hand irritatedly and paced around the room.  He picked up Roitar and examined him distractedly until he heard a voice calling to him from outside.  He answered back, his voice ringing out clearly over the noise of the last vestiges of the battle still being fought.  "Maedhros! In here!"

A very tall, grim faced but undeniably handsome Elf strode purposefully into the house. A copper circlet held back his flame-red hair.  His face was darkened with patches of soot, as was his armour which was also spattered with crimson.  Even with the grime of war on him, his aristocratic bearing ensured he was incredibly striking.  The only marring of his beauty was the stump on his right arm, his hand having been lost long ago. 

Maglor smiled, "You took your time."

"The twins met with more trouble than expected."

"Where are they?" Maglor peered around his brother expecting to see them appear at the doorway.

Maedhros put his hand on Maglor's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze before answering, "The Halls of Waiting."

Maglor's face fell. "What happened?"

"Later brother, we still have work to do.  Save it."

Maglor swallowed hard and nodded.  "I do not believe the Silmaril is here." 

"It is not," replied the elder brother, "Elwing has it, we found her on the cliffs some ten minute's ride from here. My men have her surrounded. 

"Why do they not just take it?" shrugged Maglor.

"She is threatening to cast the jewel into the sea.  But no matter, she has something we want," he turned to face the two children huddled together on the floor, "now we have something she wants."

_Baw__=  No__, don't!_

_Dartho__=  Stay___

_Tithen-draug__:=__  Little-wolf._


	5. Loss

"I do not like this!" Maglor hissed, watching the peredhil being lifted up onto separate horses, then soldiers mounting behind them. 

Maedhros continued towards his own horse, unmoved. "You do not have to like it."

"Must we"- Maglor stopped when he realised he still had the small wooden soldier in his hand. Suddenly struck by the incongruity of a battle-hardened warrior wandering around clutching a child's toy, he shoved the plaything into a spent arrow quiver that hung from his saddle.  He then mounted and trotted back over to Maedhros.  "Must we involve the children? They are innocents."

Maedhros, the picture of cool, emotional detachment, hoisted himself atop his own mount and replied, "They are our best hope for recovering the jewel.  Our quest hands by a thread; one wrong step and we will lose it forever. We must persuade Elwing not to cast away the Silmaril.  Can you think of anything more persuasive than those two?"

"What if your gambit fails brother? What then? You would force these boys to watch their mother die?"

"Maglor," a hint of annoyance crept into the eldest Fëanorian's voice, "We did our best to avoid this. She ignored our pleas; this is as much her doing as ours."

"You believe that?" scoffed Maglor.

"I have to."

Maglor hunched his shoulders and leaned over the pommel of his saddle. He closed his eyes against a sea-breeze carrying billows of smoke.  When it passed, he turned in the saddle slightly to see the children dejectedly gazing at what was once their home, looted of it's treasures and now being engulfed by flames.  Maglor was taken aback when an accusing pair of grey eyes turned their attention from the burning house onto him.  Maglor turned to face forwards quickly.  He shook his head; Maglor, who had fought in countless battles, slayer of Uldor, three-times kinslayer, now found himself unable to meet the stare of a ten-year-old child. The look on that child's face in that instant would haunt his dreams for years to come.  Maglor gave a deep sigh and sat up slowly and stiffly. His black charger pawed a feathered hoof on the ground, as if sensing his master's tension. He tried to edge forward only to be reined in by his rider. "Sh, peace, Celebel." He was shaken from his guilt-ridden musings by a hand being clapped on his back.

"Come Maglor, enough of this," said Maedhros and walked slowly to the head of the column and conversed with a few of his troops. 

Maglor squared his shoulders and finally granted his mount's wish a few moments after Maedhros gave the order to advance.  He fell into step beside the horses carrying the peredhil and made his way along the sea-front towards their mother.

~*~

Elwing was surprised that the stand-off had lasted his long.  She had expected the aggressors to try and overpower her, attempt to call her bluff or drag her away from the cliff's edge long before now.  At least as long as these combatants were guarding her and the Silmaril, they could not be attacking her people. 

She held the Nauglamír from her outstretched arm, her hand grasping the chain loosely.  The Silmaril dangled precariously over the cliff edge, the swinging jewel casting its shimmering light in all directions.  

After a time the host encircling Elwing drifted apart to reveal Maedhros striding purposefully towards her with Maglor a few paces behind, stooping slightly, as if carrying a weight around his neck.  Elwing drew herself up to her full height and squared her jaw.  With her determined expression and the keen sea breezes rippling through her gown and long, unbound hair, she cut an imposing figure; Implacable, immovable, untameable.  Though she spoke nothing her message to them was clear:  Tread carefully. 

"Elwing," began Maedhros, "relinquish the Silmaril."  She merely stared back at him, the rage in her eyes burning through him.  Maedhros continued undaunted.  "The battle is over, the day is ours.  Further resistance would be a fruitless venture."  

"Really?" She replied with a mirthless laugh. "Leave this place, or you lose the Silmaril forever."

"You would really cast the Jewel away after all this?" countered Maedhros, gesturing to the destruction behind him.  "Rather a waste, would you not agree?"

"I do not wish it, but if it would prevent your bloodstained hands touching the jewel, I will cast it into the sea.  This is no idle threat.  If you, or any of your lackeys take one more step towards me, I will do it."

"Lady," Maedhros continued, exasperation starting to infiltrate his voice, "You cannot remain like this forever. Yield, now!"

"I do not have to, _Lord_, I only need to remain here until reinforcements arrive from Balar. I will not move, nor will I yield the Nauglamír to you.  I suggest you leave."

"Very well." Maedhros turned and called behind the line of soldiers, which again divided, this time admitting two Elves, each one holding a struggling child firmly by the shoulders.  "What say you now?" asked Maedhros calmly.  He could see that the wall that had made her unassailable was cracking, it was only a matter of time before it crumbled completely.  The uncertainty that now pervaded her mood was palpable.  Her formerly defiant face was now beginning to crumple.  She drew the Silmaril back from the cliff's edge, and held the necklace in both hands, contemplating it sorrowfully.  She looked up at Maedhros, her eyes brimming with tears.  

"Do not hurt them, please." Elwing blinked away the tears; she was defeated, she was pleading with them but they would never see her cry.

"You know what you must do."  

At that moment, Elros, who was still squirming like an eel, managed to break free of his captor and ran to his mother, calling to her.  His cries turned to a squeal of pain as he was pulled back roughly.

"Elros!" exclaimed Elwing, her rebellious tear ducts threatening her composure again.  "Shh, do not struggle, please." After her best shot at an encouraging look to her sons she turned her attention back to Maedhros.  "Suppose I give you the Jewel.  How can I be sure that you will not harm them anyway?"

Maglor joined in the negotiations. "Just hand over the Nauglamír and this ends now. Your sons will come to no harm, I give you my word."

"Your word?" Elwing's gaze turned icy cold on Maglor.  "_Your word? Have you forgotten your words to me this very afternoon? That you had no quarrel with my children, yet here you are, using them as barter."  Maglor cast his eyes downwards, looking like an ashamed child.  "You _word_ is meaningless, for all I know they will go the same way as my brothers."  She exhaled sharply and closed her eyes, clutching the jewel to her chest, as if debating with herself.  _

"No".  She opened her eyes slowly and continued, her voice even and measured.  "You cannot be trusted and I will not allow you to use my sons as tools to aid your covetousness."  She slowly and deliberately clasped the Nauglamír around her neck and took a step backwards.  

Elrond looked puzzled.  "Ammë?" his voice was quiet and unsure of itself.  He watched in mounting horror as his mother took another backward step to the very edge of the cliff.  She turned slightly to look down and see the waves crashing against the rocks below.  To his right, Maglor was shaking his head, muttering under his breath, worry etched on his features.  Ahead of him, Maedhros was barking orders.

"Everyone stay exactly where you are, no-one move."  Maedhros held his hand out to Elwing, beckoning her to him.  "Step away from the edge, there is no need for this."

Elwing ignored him and looked to her children.  "Elrond, Elros, be brave. Forgive your mother."

  
"Oh no," groaned Maglor, his shoulders slumping and his brow knotting together.

"Elwing," growled Maedhros but she still paid him no mind, she regarded her sons with an oddly serene expression, even managing to smile a little. 

"Close your eyes."  With that she took another step and was gone. 

Elros gave a harrowing cry and broke free again, running towards the cliff-edge.  Maglor sprang after him, catching him around the waist.  The distraught boy called after his mother, the words barely discernible, coming out as heart-rending screams.  Elrond stood rooted to the spot, staring at the place his mother had fell from in dry-eyed, dumbfounded shock.  Maglor picked up the bawling Elros, trying in vain to quiet him, while shooting venomous glances at Maedhros, who bore an expression much like Elrond's.  

Suddenly, a great shape rose up from beneath the cliff, glowing with a white radiance.  All eyes looked to it in wonderment and saw that it was a white bird, with the Silmaril shining on its breast.  It rose up, borne by an inexplicably strong updraft, circled once and then took off to sea.  

Maglor could not suppress a relieved smile.  He gently shook Elros in his arms, "See? She lives, she lives."

"Ammë! Ammë!  Elros stretched his arms out towards the fast disappearing point of light, standing out against the night sky.  Maglor turned around to walk towards Elrond, who was staring in disbelief towards the horizon.  

"How?" he breathed, in a daze.

"The Valar smile on you, Pityo." Maglor's comment barely registered with Elrond, who continued staring at the horizon.  Elros rested his chin on Maglor's shoulder, his arms now draped limply over Maglor's shoulders.  

"Why does she not come back?" asked Elros forlornly.

Maglor gave no answer.  He shifted the disconsolate child on to one hip and crooked one arm beneath him.  He used his free arm to steer Elrond away from the cliff and back towards the town.  Elrond's legs seemed to move of their own accord and he found himself leaning tiredly against Maglor, grateful for the physical support, not really caring where it came from. 

"Maglor," said Maedhros, his face dour, "we are leaving. Bring the children."

"Why? Ships from Balar will arriving soon, we can leave them here, they will be safe."

"They could still be useful to us.  Their mother still has the Silmaril, they would be valuable hostages."

"Maedhros no! No!" Maglor's expression was one of absolute disbelief at what he was hearing.  "We have caused enough pain this night, please, do not add to the suffering."

Maedhros raised his voice, "There is every chance she will return for them. If we do not take them, we lose our most powerful negotiating tool."  

"It did not work tonight, why should the strategy work later? She probably thinks them slain."

"And who's fault is that?"

"What?" cried Maglor, incensed.  

"She was beginning to waver until you decided to impart your 'wisdom'.  If we take them with us, then all this need not have been in vain."  He came closer to Maglor and his voice dropped to a sibilant whisper.  "Do as I ask.  I will _not_ be argued with in front of my men." He turned on his heel and stalked back to his horse.  

Elros peeked out from the folds of Maglor's cloak, where he had shrunk back and hidden his face when Maedhros had approached them.  "Where are we going?" He piped up. 

"Amon Ereb," answered his captor-cum-protector.

"Is it far?"

"It is to the East and North of here, beyond the Taur Im Duinath, so yes, it is a long way." Maglor gave the still somewhat oblivious Elrond a gentle pat on the back.  "Come, we had best be off, lest I rouse the wrath of my brother again."

~*~

After fording the Sirion, they came to a small base camp where some other Noldor were waiting with a few pack horses and baggage carts.  A tall elf armed with a light bow jogged forwards to meet Maedhros and Maglor.

"My lords! How went the battle?"

"Galmacil!" Maedhros came to a stop before him and nodded.  "Victoriously"-

-"Bloodily," interrupted Maglor sardonically.

Maedhros sighed, looking sideways at his brother through narrowed eyes. "Amrod and Amras were lost. But the day is ours"-

-"Pointlessly," again Maglor interjected, looking upwards, his tongue rolling around in his cheek.  

"We failed to recover the Silmaril," Maedhros explained, willing his brother not to open his mouth again, "But we have  with us two extremely valuable hostages."

Galmacil looked nervously to Maglor, expecting another barbed quip but none came.  He cleared his throat and began. "Condolences on the loss of your brothers my lords, they were"-

"Oh save the platitudes Galmacil," groaned Maglor as he dismounted from Celebel carefully, trying not to put too much weight on his injured arm.  "Just call a healer to me and bring some clean water and food.  Enough for the children too."

"Children?"

"The hostages," clarified Maedhros.  He gestured towards Elrond and Elros being lifted from separate horses.

"Peredhil! Eärendil's sons?"

Maglor swept past them towards his tent, cradling his wounded arm, a low growl issuing from his throat.

"Did I cause offence, my Lord?"

"Nay, pay him no mind," assured Maedhros.  "He is grieving."

~*~

Elrond and Elros sat on the ground in Maedhros' tent, pale and frightened.

"Elrond, what are they going to do with us?" The question came out as barely more than a nervous squeak.

"We are safe Elros, do not worry," answered Elrond, trying to sound confident.  "They need us.  We are hostages, remember?

"Meaning what?"

"They want to swap us for Ammë's necklace."

"Why do they want Ammë's necklace so badly?"

Elrond paused for a moment.  "It is complicated.  It matters not anyway; Ammë will return. She will find Ada at sea and they will sail back and save us." 

"Maglor said she would not.  He said she thinks we are dead."

"Well then, you should not listen to him.  Never listen to him."

They fell silent when Galmacil entered the tent with two plates bearing dried meat and some unidentifiable vegetables. 

"We will not remain here long," the adult informed the children, "just long enough to rest and water the horses so I suggest you eat and get some rest while you can." The boys looked at the food with apathy written all over their faces.  "Eat something!" said the elf before leaving the tent again.  

"Elrond, I am not hungry," said Elros despondently.  "I feel sick." 

"And I Elros.  But we should keep our strength up."  He picked up a piece of dry, cold meat between his thumb and forefinger, examining it.  "We might feel better with food in our bellies," he said uncertainly.

"It looks like one of Nárwen's roasts," said Elros, his voice cracking and his bottom lip quivering but still managing a smile.

"Nay," replied Elrond after a painfully short-lived laugh, "It is too juicy to be one of Nárwen's roasts." He dropped the meat on the plate and pushed it away.  He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat but his vision blurred and a quiet sob escaped him.

  
~*~

  
  The sun rose sullenly, its light filtering slowly through the clouds as if it were loathe to show its face that morning.  Maglor sat by the dying embers of a fire, whittling single-mindedly on a small strip of wood.  So engrossed in his task was he that he did not notice the approach of his brother.

"How is you arm?" enquired Maedhros, seated on the ground opposite him.  

"It will heal," replied Maglor, not taking his eyes off his task.

"What are you doing?"

"Carving," Maglor answered distractedly.

"I can see that.  You appear to be carving a twig," Maedhros paused and squinted more closely at the object in his brother's hands, "into a smaller one.  Do you mind if I ask why?"

"It is a peace offering," was Maglor's cryptic response.  "And how fare you brother? I do believe this is the first time you have sat still since yesterday morn."

"I am tired.  Maglor, forgive me for being short with you.  It was not your fault.  It is just," he paused, sighing, "we came so close."   

Maglor looked up from his work and regarded Maedhros through questioning eyes.  "You never told me what happened to the twins."

"They were betrayed," replied Maedhros after a brief hesitation.  "A few of our followers decided to aid Elwing instead of their own lords."

"And what happened to them?" 

Maedhros poked the fire with a stick, clenching his jaw before answering bitterly, "I dealt with them." Maglor said nothing to this, he knew exactly what that meant.  "You think me harsh?"

"No, no.  You know my feelings on traitors."  Maglor could imagine the rest.  He surmised that one twin had been slain by a rebel and the other had haplessly rushed in to defend his brother, not thinking of the consequences.  It made a kind of perverse sense to Maglor for them to die together. In life, wherever Amrod was, you could be sure Amras was not far away.  In some ways it could have been worse if one had survived; Maglor could not imagine them sundered from one another but the mental image of their identical, broken bodies lying next to each other still sent a stab of acute grief through Maglor's heart.  The small sliver of wood snapped across the edge of the knife as Maglor pressed a little too hard.  He tossed the two pieces onto the fire in irritation, where small orange flames briefly licked around them, before subsiding quickly.  The last sons of Fëanor sat quietly, watching the fire die out for some minutes before Maglor broke the silence with words that had been echoing through his soul, begging to be spoken ever since he saw Elwing fall.

"That was the last.  No more, I am done with it."

"Maglor, the oath is stronger than you. You know this." Maedhros imbued his voice with as much sympathy and understanding as he could.  "If you try to resist your fate, it will only cause you more anguish."

"On this night alone," stated Maglor matter-of-factly, "We have destroyed a peaceful dwelling, killed hundreds, abducted two innocents and seen the last of our brothers slain."  He shrugged.  "All for what? An oath, that we came no closer to fulfilling.  I have had enough."

"Trying to avoid your doom will only make you more unhappy."

"I have forgotten happy," countered Maglor evenly.  "At least my conscience will be clear. What is left of it."

Maedhros saw little point in arguing any further with Maglor when one of his black moods took him. He felt sure he would come around eventually.  "We must away.  We have lingered here far too long," he said briskly, trying to turn Maglor's mind to more practical matters.  

Maglor paid little heed to his elder's instructions.  He just stared at the ascending sun spilling its crimson rays across the clouds and spoke softly and mournfully, "Yarvaxië i fanyarë nar."

Pityo: "Little one". This was also Amras' nickname.

 Yarvaxië i fanyarë nar: "The sky is bloodstained." [lit. 'Bloodstained the upper airs and clouds are.'] (Quenya)  


	6. A Change of Scenery

A/N: Apologies for the delay getting this chapter up. I'm having a crisis. Thanks to those who listened to me bellyache about this chapter, they know who they are. Nance, you lovely people, nance. ;) **  
  
Chapter 6: A change of scenery.**

Elros stumbled along and tripped on a root.  He fell face-forwards onto the ground, and remained there for a moment as if confused as to how he had managed to go from vertical to horizontal in the blink of an eye. A rough hand grabbed him by his collar and hauled him back onto his feet.  

"Get up," said an irritated voice that went with the hand, which gave him a forceful shove in the direction they were travelling.  "Keep up."  

Elros rubbed his grazed wrists and bleated, "I'm trying!"  

"Try harder."

"He is tired," said Elrond nervously but surprising himself with his boldness.  "He is so much smaller than you, how can you expect him to keep up?  If you are so concerned with him falling behind let him back on the horse."

"My horse needs rest from time to time,"-

-"Then get another horse." Elrond gulped apprehensively, thinking perhaps he had gone a little too far. 

The adult stopped in his tracks and leaned threateningly down towards the elder peredhel. "When I want advice, half-breed, I will ask for it."

Elrond shrank back, looking at the ground, his cheeks burning.  The adult stalked off, muttering something to himself about being forced to play nursemaid. 

"When are we going to stop for a rest?" Elros grumbled as he wandered over to his brother, dragging his feet.

"Soon, I think." Elrond put his arm around Elros' shoulder, steering him, supporting him as best he could despite being exhausted himself.  There had been no respite since they broke camp at sunrise and that had been nearly four hours ago.  Truth be told, Elrond had no idea how long they would keep going. 

He looked out across the unfolding landscape and a new weariness hit him.  He could make out the mountains on the horizon, mocking him, reminding him of just how far they had to go.  Well, at least the ground here was solid, the bog of Lisgardh had been a nightmare.  Although they had only been travelling a relatively short time, Elrond was amazed at how much the landscape had changed.  The plants different, the soil was different and the air, that was what had struck Elrond the most; the air smelled different. He took a deep breath and tried to remember the ozone that permeated the air around Sirion.  Elrond had to keep reminding himself that it was only yesterday that he had been home, he could not believe how much he missed it already. 

Suddenly Elros let out a curse in Westron, one of the few things that he had applied himself to learning and sat down, cross legged on the ground, a prize scowl on his face.

"That is it.  I am not going any further.  I have had enough."

"Elros," pleaded Elrond, "do not do this, please."  He looked up nervously to see that their 'guardian' was coming towards them bearing an expression of displeasure to rival Elros'.  "He is coming back. He is in a foul humour as it is, do not make things worse."

"What is it now?" The elf glared down at Elros, who replied slowly and exactly, enunciating every syllable.

"I-am-not-going-any-further."

"Oh really?"

Elrond tried to defuse the situation.  "Please sir, he is just tired, give him a moment."

The soldier continued to address Elros, ignoring Elrond.  "No one else is stopping. Do you wish to be left behind, alone, in the middle of no-where? Do you?"

"I would be rid of you," mumbled Elros insolently.  He instantly regretted that little fit of pique when he felt rough fingers grab a fistful of his hair and yank upwards, sharply.  Elros shrieked in pain and sprang to his feet, the desired effect of that harsh action. Elros' face crumpled along with his defiance as he stumbled along in an attempt to stop the intense pain in his scalp.  

"There, you see? One foot in front of the other, not so difficult is it?" Elros squealed in reply, hot tears of pain and embarrassment rolling down his flushed cheeks.

Elrond was beside himself, yelling, waving his arms, desperate for this to end. 

"You are hurting him! Stop it, stop!" His wish was finally granted and Elrond gasped, shocked at what he had just seen. Never, not once had they been physically chastised; the idea of his parents meting out such a severe punishment was unthinkable. He hugged Elros, who was shaking and whimpering. Elrond whispered to him, comforting him as best he could, trying and failing to keep his voice steady.  

Both boys jumped at the sound of rapid hoof beats coming to a sudden stop and looked up to see Maglor unleashing a stream of angry Quenya from atop his horse. 

"Equen tirte, ava lavte na telwa," Maglor yelled down at the elf, "lá palpate!" The chagrined soldier made to protest his innocence but Maglor cut him off, holding up his palm.  The retainer fell silent immediately.  It was obvious that Maglor was seething and would brook no argument. 

Elros, wishing he had paid more attention in his Quenya lessons whispered to Elrond, asking him what Maglor was saying, while Maglor continued in his tirade.

"Orta má tanna hína ata, ar auciriuvan! Hanya?"  
  
The soldier nodded glumly, while Elros nudged Elrond, who explained, "He is just telling him off for hurting you," opting to spare Elros the details. Maglor dismounted, his face still like thunder and raised his voice to the rest of the elves that had gathered around to watch the spectacle. 

"That goes for the rest of you." He turned back to the object of his ire and hissed, "Heca!" The soldier bowed hurriedly and made off without another word. Maglor's voice then dropped right down as he spoke to Elros. "Did he hurt you badly?"

Elros rubbed the back of his head and shrugged before answering, "Not too badly," the first two words coming out as a strangulated hiss before his vocal chords decided to do as they were told. Maglor turned next to Elrond. 

"He never touched me." Elrond still had his arms encircling the younger boy protectively. Maglor walked towards them, telling them that they should keep moving but Elrond instinctively took a step backwards, pulling Elros with him. 

Maglor stopped in his tracks and held out his hand.  "I do not expect you to trust me but if you believe nothing else of me, believe that I will not harm you." Elros stepped forward hesitantly and put this hand in Maglor's who led him to his horse. He lifted the boy into the saddle and said, "This is Celebel, he will save your legs."  
  
Elros seemed a little unsteady and muttered nervously, "I do not know what I am doing."

"Do not worry," Maglor assured him nodding towards Celebel as he tucked the stirrups away under the saddle flaps, "he does.  Hold onto the pommel here, or grab a handful of mane."  Elros, his scalp still throbbing from someone grabbing a handful of his mane, clamped his hands over the saddle pommel until his knuckles turned white. 

Maglor laughed softly, Elros' frown giving away his concerns, "Do not worry, horses have tougher hides than peredhil."  He then beckoned to Elrond who approached slowly, his body language screaming his unease.  Maglor gave him a leg-up to behind Elros and his whole body tensed when he landed with a thump in the saddle. He was unused to riding, there not being much need for it in Sirion and the world certainly looked different from up on horseback. 

"Relax," said Maglor, again being able to read his concern, "we will not let you fall, will we, Celebel?" He gave the animal an affectionate pat on the neck and led him off.

  
~*~

  
It was another two hours before they finally stopped to rest and even then Elrond got the impression it would be a brief one. After being helped down from the horse, Elrond was handed a water-skin. He passed it along to Elros who eagerly gulped down several mouthfuls.

Elrond looked across to the forest to the East; The Taur im Duinath.  It was tantalizingly close. He paced around a little, ostensibly to stretch his legs, also to take a look at what the rest of the party were up to.  As far as Elrond could tell, they were not taking much notice of him or Elros. They seemed to trust in the fact that the boys would not attempt to run off. Elrond wondered if anyone would notice if he slunk off towards the woods. If he could just make it to the forest, he knew that there were Sindarin elves there. Surely they would help? If he could just find some of them, they could help him travel south through the forest where the Fëanorians would never find them. The he might be able to contact Gil-galad. Elrond's heart leapt at the thought, if he managed that perhaps he could see Ammë and Ada again…

Elrond was disturbed from his escape plans when he felt a tap on his leg. He looked down to see Elros holding the water-skin up to him. The notion of escape disappeared as quickly as it had formed. Elrond slowly and stiffly hunkered down beside his brother and took a swig from the skin. He shook his head as he swallowed, marvelling at his foolishness. Of course he could not sneak off without being seen; it was a featureless plain between here and the forest. Besides, his protesting thigh muscles were in no fit state to make a run for it after being in the saddle for so long and Elros- Elrond looked across to see that his eyelids were dropping again already. Even if Elrond could have made it, he knew Elros never would and he could not leave Elros behind. Elrond regarded his brother sadly and realized that all they could do was stick together and hope for a rescue, there was nothing he could do but protect Elros as best he could.

"What are you looking at?" mumbled Elros from behind a curtain of hair. 

"You are nodding," replied Elrond as he tucked some dark locks behind Elros' ear. 

"I am tired." Elros yawned and lay down, resting his head on Elrond's leg. 

"I expect they will feed us in a minute, that will help." He looked up to see that the sun was still high in the sky, indicating a long day's travel still to come.

~*~

After the fifth day on the road Elrond began to wonder if his leg muscles would be permanently misshapen from the experience. He could not understand how the others could ride for hours and then walk perfectly normally. Every time he dismounted Elrond was so awkward, as his legs refused to move from that ridiculous inverted 'U' shape. 

As for the mornings, they were the worst. Elrond had always liked mornings; the quiet, the way the *haar rose from the sea, the invigorating freshness in the air. He had grown to hate them over these past few days. Mornings now meant aches and pains; both from the exertions of the previous day and from sleeping on the ground. They meant cold, the likes of which Elrond had never imagined, and they meant being forced on to his feet before he had finished waking. He experienced a new found sympathy for Elros all those times he had made him get out of bed.

This particular morning, Elrond woke to find that Elros was not in the sleeping roll beside him. He stretched and rose slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, wondering which joints would crack this time. He drew a cloak around himself and hobbled off in search of his brother. He found him near the centre of the camp, with Celebel.  The horse's head was drooping down to the youngster's level while Elros stroked his velvety nose. 

"Morning Elros." He nodded towards Celebel. "You have found a friend."

"Maglor was showing me how to tack-up."

"Was he indeed?" Elrond knew the disapproval was edging into his voice but Elros seemed not to notice. 

"I am holding him until he gets back," added Elros, puffing his chest out.

"Right," Elrond looked at the pair; horse and 'minder', hiding his amusement behind a feigned yawn. One of Celebel's back hooves was cocked, his ears were wilting to the sides and his eyelids were half-closed. He did not quite have the heart to tell Elros that the poor animal was fast asleep and that even if the sixteen hands-high cube of muscle had decided to run off, there would not be much that a seven year old peredhel could do about it. 

"Elrond, look." Elros stretched upwards as far as he could and parted Celebel's forelock with his fingertips to reveal a diamond shaped white patch. "A silver star." Elrond nodded and smiled, indulging him. It was endearing to see Elros so taken with the beast. He found himself feeling conflicted towards Maglor all of a sudden. He was still angry at him for helping to get them into this predicament but at the same time he was grateful to him for giving Elros something to take his mind off it. 

"What is there for breakfast?" asked Elrond as he searched for water to ease his dry throat. 

"Lembas," moaned Elros.

"Oh," sighed Elrond, "just for a change." He thought back ruefully to the first time he had tried the way-bread on a short camping trip with Nárwen.  He had felt so grown up when he had eaten it then.  On this particular hike, the novelty wore off very quickly.  Elrond nibbled at a wafer as he eyed Maedhros and Maglor's approach. 

"Ah, you are wakened," Maglor called out to Elrond. 

"Evidently," replied Elrond acerbically.

Maglor turned to the happier-looking Elros. "Did he behave himself?" he asked of his mount as he took the reins off Elros who nodded somewhat bashfully. Maglor spoke into the horse's ear and Celebel suddenly sprang into life with a soft whinny. "Good lad," whispered Maglor with a smile and a pat. 

"Why are we leaving so late this morning?" asked Elrond. 

"We waited for the scouts to report in," drawled Maedhros, "as always."

"Then why are _they so late?"_

"The terrain is rougher here," interjected Maglor before his brother could reply. "Nothing more."

Puzzled, Elrond pressed on, "But"- he paused looking around him, "The ground is flat here."

"It gets steeper."

"But"-

"Elrond," Maglor interrupted somewhat harshly, "whatever the reasons, it afforded you some extra time to sleep, so do not complain about it."

"I was not complaining," mumbled Elrond, folding his arms and drawing his cloak tighter around himself and began to walk away. 

Maglor lifted Elros onto Celebel, while Maedhros looked on with a lazily amused expression.

"Elrond?" Maglor beckoned to the retreating child.

"I prefer to walk," replied Elrond.

"You will tire"-

"I will manage," he countered, not even turning around. 

Maglor sighed, dropping his arm to his side. Elros watched out of the corner of his eye, swallowing nervously. 

"Sir?"

Maglor looked up to Elros, aware that he was not disguising his irritation.

"What is it?" he made a conscious effort to seem more relaxed. 

"He did not mean to anger you, sir. He is always asking questions."

"It is just his way?"

Elros nodded before continuing "He is always reading and…" He tailed off, fidgeting with Celebel's mane. He stiffened when Maglor mounted behind him. 

"I am not angry, Elros," Maglor reassured him. _At least, not with you or your brother_, he added mentally to himself. "So do you like books?"

"No." Elros' reply was so emphatic it almost made Maglor feel stupid for asking.

"Then what do you like?"

Elros thought for a moment. "Not books. I like"- he corrected himself mid-sentence, "I _liked playing with my soldiers."_

"One the loremaster, one the warrior. You two could make a formidable team. Elros shrugged awkwardly and replied with a few embarrassed-sounding mumbles. 

"Look in the saddlebag on your right," instructed Maglor after an awkward silence. He smiled at the delighted gasp that elicited from Elros when he saw what was inside. 

"Roitar!" The child squealed. He frowned at the toy and then said, "His bow is different."

"I am afraid I broke the last one," Maglor explained. "I know it is not very good; I could paint it for you when we get back."

"Thank you," he replied bashfully. Elros beamed at the figurine, overjoyed that at least one token of his childhood had survived more or less intact. 

"I take it that is the 'peace offering?'" asked Maedhros motioning towards the delicately carved bow being examined by Elros as though it were a great treasure. "Why wait so long to give it to him?" continued Maedhros in Quenya, confident that the child would not understand. 

"This seemed like a good time. I did not want to seem"- 

  
"Manipulative?"

"No," replied Maglor, "over familiar.  I am not trying to bribe them."

"Then what are you doing?" asked Maedhros in another laconic interruption. 

"I am trying to make this a little more bearable for them. What can be wrong with that?"

"Well, see that do not try to become familiar with them. They are prisoners, never forget that." Maedhros looked to the sad little figure of Elrond, shuffling along a few feet in front, "He is not likely to."

~*~

_*_Haar = Sea-mist. (Scots/English archaic)

__

_Maglor's rant:_

**"Equen tirte, ava lavte na telwa. La palpate!"**

_"I said watch them, don't allow them to fall behind _(Lit. 'fall last.' Dodgy translation, I know)._ Not beat them!"_

**"Orta má tanna hína ata, ar auciriuvan! Hanya?"  **

**_"_**_Raise a hand to that child again and I will cut it off! Understand?"_

**"Heca!"******

_"Be gone!"_


	7. A misstep

**_A/N:_**_ Once again, apologies for the lateness of this chapter. This is getting to be a theme isn't it?  
  
c_carol: Thanks for the language tip. I'll probably end up revising this at some point so cheers for pointing that out.   
  
Mistress Saigon: Damn you wench.** You** want a little Elrond? Well,** I** want a Sauron with a…yeah. ;)**  
  
Chapter 7: A mis-step.**_

Elrond looked around the party somewhat suspiciously, feeling something was amiss, then it hit him; the silence. A couple of days ago the mood had lightened a little; conversations had become more cheerful, groups of elves could be heard singing on occasion. Today, they were eerily silent. 

Maedhros stopped and stood up in his stirrups, scanning the area around him.  He sat back down and looked down to his left to see Elrond looking back up at him with questioning eyes.

"What is wrong?"

"You look tired, young one," began Maedhros, pointedly ignoring Elrond's concerns. "Why do you not ride with Galmacil there?"

"I am well enough, thank you."

"Ride with Galmacil."

Appreciating that this was an order and not a suggestion, Elrond allowed himself to be placed with the seneschal.  He looked around him again, wondering at the tension. The atmosphere was electric, all around him some of the keenest senses in Middle Earth were directed at Elrond knew not what. He gripped the saddle pommel instinctively as the horse began leg yielding, the sideways trotting movement making Elrond feel insecure.  He then saw Maglor and Elros pull up beside them and dozens of other elves soundlessly closing in all around them. Elrond surmised that Galmacil and Maglor must have manoeuvred them into the centre of the group. 

They rode on like this in silence for about another half –hour before Maedhros ordered a stop. Galmacil helped both boys off their respective mounts and the host parted to let Maedhros and Maglor canter out before closing around them again. 

Elros sidled up to Elrond, looking puzzled. "Why are we stopping? It is barely dusk."

"You would not know it, it is nearly dark anyway," said Elrond rolling his eyes up at the heavily overcast sky. 

"It is going to rain, is it not?" grumbled Elros.

"Listen," Elrond whispered to his brother when he thought Galmacil's attention was directed elsewhere, "there is obviously something wrong. We have stopped here for no reason; the scouts were a long time reporting back this morning." Elrond paused, making sure no one was listening before continuing, and "I think they are being tracked."

"By who?"

Elrond swallowed down his excitement to keep his voice steady, "It could be Gil-galad or Cirdan."

"You think they could have caught up?"

"I believe so. Who else could it be?" Elros shrugged, his brows knotting into a frown. "Listen, when the time comes you must do exactly as I say."

"What do you mean?"

"When the attack comes, that lot will have their hands full, so we will be able to slip away." A hopeful smile crept into Elrond's face, "They are coming to rescue us Elros, I can feel it." Elros looked unconvinced. "Elros, what is wrong?" Elrond's smiled faltered. "We could end up with people who care for us; no more marching, no more horrible food." The little spark of hope gleamed anew in his eyes, "We could see Ammë again."

"It is dangerous."

"I know, but if we stick together all will be well. Elros, they will be looking for us, we will not have to get far. This could be our only chance." Elros conceded with a nod, trying to dispel the anxiety he was feeling. 

~*~

Maglor growled as he drew a smooth stone along the blade edge of his sword hard enough to draw sparks. 

"Three days," he hissed, "Three days of blazing sunshine and the moment we could actually use some of it, Anar decides to hide." He gestured upwards practically shaking his fist at the blackening clouds. "You know, if I did not know any better, I would say that someone out there does not like us," he added, nodding towards the West.

Maedhros' mouth twitched slightly at the edges as he watched Maglor continue to sharpen his sword, musing that it would take some work before he got it anywhere near as sharp as his tongue.

"Are you sure it was wise to halt?" asked Maglor, pausing in his labours.

"We will not out-run them. I would rather we are stationary and in close order if an attack does come. I am hoping they will pass us by in any case."

"They would not dare, would they? Surely they must see how we out-number them?"

"Perhaps it is not a full-scale battle they seek."

"If not a fight, then what?"

"A meal perhaps?" 

~*~

What little light managed to filter through the clouds was now being supplemented by fires and torches, the latter being arranged around the perimeter of the group. The peredhil had not seen either Maglor nor Maedhros for nearly an hour, something which cemented Elrond's conviction that something was very wrong. He knelt on the ground, every muscle taut, while staring intently into the darkness, waiting for any sign of movement or alarm. Elros, sat with his knees hugged up to his chest, his posture displaying the same tension as Elrond but without the same readiness. 

In the distance, a horse screamed and in an instant weapons were drawn, gleaming red in the firelight. 

"Elros!" Elrond sprang to his feet and pulled his brother up with him.  Elros entwined his fingers with his brother's, who gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "I will not let us get separated." Elros nodded dumbly, biting his lip. Elrond gave Elros' arm a subtle tug and began to edge him away from the guards, ever so slowly. 

There was a shout from the other side of the group and the guards' heads snapped around to face it while raising their weapons. A small number moved forward to look more closely, leaving a gap in the perimeter. The two children took this opportunity and dashed into the gloom.

The boys ran as far as they dared without being noticed, their footsteps making barely any sound.  They hunkered down beside a supply cart, both to hide and to plan their next move.

"Can you see them?" whispered Elros. Elrond shook his head. 

"I think I can hear voices," he replied, peering into increasingly murky surroundings, anxious for any sign of their would-be rescuers. They both jumped as they head Elves calling urgently to each other. "They know we are gone. Hurry!"  They took off again in the direction that Elrond thought he had heard the voices. They carried on running, the further they got from the others and the growing darkness helping to cloak their escape. 

They both slowed gradually as they could hear the talking grow louder. The voices were harsh, guttural and speaking what sounded like a strange perversion of an Elvish tongue. The sound made Elros want to cover his ears and block it out. Though he could not understand the language, he knew one thing; it frightened him. 

"Elrond," Elros whispered as loudly as he dared, "They are no Elves, let us go back." He tugged at his brother's sleeve who nodded and began to creep back the way they had come. Elros went cold as he realised that the talking had ceased. He dared to look back to where he had heard them and saw several pairs of green eyes shining in the darkness back at him.

~*~

"How could you let this happen?" Maglor railed at Galmacil, trying to quell the panic he felt rising in his chest. "You were supposed to be watching them!"

"My lord, I swear to you, my head was turned for a second"-

"Which way did they go?" 

"The line was weakest here," Galmacil replied indicating a section of the group, "that is the only place they could have possibly got out." 

"Maglor," interjected Maedhros, "Take a small group, find the children. The rest of us will deal with the yrch that are left, hopefully we can get to them before"- He was cut off by the sound of screams in the distance.

"Oh," he sighed, "too late."

~*~

"Magl-" Elros' cry for help was aborted by a calloused, malodorous hand being clamped over his mouth. He clawed at it, thinking he would suffocate if he did not somehow get free. The orc holding him was yelling and pointing at another orc who held a struggling Elrond securely around the waist with one arm. The boys could not understand a word but were sure they were arguing about something.

"Give me the other one!"

"Make me!"

"I saw 'em first!"

"I'm in charge! I get first cut!"

A third, smaller, scrawny looking orc joined in the conversation, only to be patently ignored by the two antagonists. "Can I have little taste? Ooh, don't they look tender?"

"Oh, you're in charge? And you've been doing a superb job, haven't you, Búrzghâsh?" Sarcasm crystallized on every syllable out of his fetid mouth.

"Just a finger"-

"Meaning what?" snarled the orc known as Búrzghâsh.

  
"Or a few toes maybe?"

"We'll get some meat, _you said_," replied Elros' captor, still ignoring the smaller orc who was now bouncing up and down with excitement. "Pick off a couple while they're on the move, _you said,"-_

"Or perhaps a couple of ribs, oh I love ribs"-

"They'll never expect anything this far South _you said_, they'll never realize until it's too late, _you said_," 

"Stripping the meat off the bone with your teeth, suckin' out the marrow"-

"SHUT UP!" they yelled in unison, both rounding on the small orc who stopped bouncing and looked as embarrassed as an orc can. 

"I'd do a better job than you, just admit it."

"I'm a fine leader."

"Tell that to the poor sods who tasted Maedhros' steel back there."

At that Búrzghâsh threw Elrond down on the ground like a rag doll and drew his sword. Elrond's head hit a rock with a sickening crack and then lay motionless.  The scrawny orc squatted down beside him and poked him, muttering about how Búrzghâsh had gone and bruised perfectly good meat. 

Elros felt the orc fumble for his weapon, yet still refused to put him down. He dropped to the ground at the same instant that Búrzghâsh plunged his sword into his captor's chest. The orc fell, screamed a horrible, high pitched shriek, twitched for a few moments then was still. Elros was hauled off the ground once more, this time by Búrzghâsh, who then issued orders to the others.

"Right. Let's get out of here before the red-head comes back to put maggot-holes in the rest of us. You!" He shouted to the little orc, "Get the other one." He paused before adding, "And no sampling!"

The small orc smiled as he sniffed the prone child like a jackal at a carcass. He drew his finger across a gash in Elrond's temple, licked it and gave a happy little shiver. He was about to lift Elrond off the ground when an arrow pierced his throat. He fell backwards, making nauseating gurgling sounds as he bled his last. The rest of the orcs scattered, howling in fear as enraged Noldor bore down on them.

Elros once again found himself struggling to breathe as he was jostled against Búrzghâsh's hip as the orc fled, his arm wrapped around the child's torso in a vice-like grip. Búrzghâsh halted and turned as the sound of rapid hoof-beats approached them. Elros looked up in his awkward, horizontal position to see Maedhros, charging towards them on his destrier. His usually handsome face was contorted into an expression of absolute fury, his red hair flying out behind him. Búrzghâsh made to strike first as Maedhros neared but the elf decapitated the hapless orc with one stroke and then just galloped past, onto his next target.

Elros struggled to extricate himself from the dead orc. He finally managed to wriggle free, his clothes slimy with blood.  He sat motionless, all colour draining from his face as he stared in horror at the headless corpse before him. 

He heard Maglor calling his name but his voice seemed muted somehow.  The adult knelt down beside Elros and took him gently by the shoulders and tried to turn him away from the repulsive sight before him.  Elros finally tore his eyes away to look into Maglor's face who was talking to him but the words did not register. Maglor began to tenderly wipe the foul-smelling blood off the child's face with his cloak before gathering him into his arms and carrying him away from the grisly scene.

~*~

Later that night, a very tired, very dirty Maedhros found Maglor and the two peredhil beside a fire.  Maedhros could see that his brother had pressed many of their clothes into service; the still unconscious Elrond's head was resting on a pillow comprising of folded cloaks and shirts. Elros, who was wrapped in a blanket and curled up on Maglor's lap, was wearing an adult's shirt; he could see the child's fist, hanging onto Maglor, only half-way up the over-long sleeve.

"Is that not _my shirt?" he asked of Maglor with a smile._

"I thought you would not mind," explained Maglor quietly. "Alas, we do not have an over-abundance of spare elfling clothes." He nodded towards Elros' clothes which were drying on a make-shift rack, still blood-stained but with the worst of the grime washed out. 

"They smelled bad," squeaked Elros, who was shaking violently but not from cold Maedhros guessed.

"It is all right little one," Maedhros assured him. "Keep the shirt, it matters not to me." He crossed over to Elrond, knelt down and studied his face intently. In a complete contrast to the wrathful warrior of before he very gently brushed back the child's hair to examine the dressing on his head-wound. He looked up and his concerned eyes met those of his brother's. "Ninquéro ná."*

Maglor said nothing but hugged Elros closer to him, who was thankfully oblivious to the two brothers' pessimistic exchange. He began to hum an ancient melody and Elros started to relax and little by little, sleep finally came to him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

* Ninquéro ná = He is white/pallid. (Quenya)


End file.
